


and in our hearts we know the truth

by joshllyman



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Dom/sub, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, jude the cat is my oc, more on that later, set in the second season but also cathy is here bc cathy is wonderful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 10:42:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18991045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joshllyman/pseuds/joshllyman
Summary: Sam spends several hours not making much headway on what Josh asked. He’s got seven different tabs open and he works in spurts on other things, things he thinks are actually important and relevant to his job. And it’s just—the thing is, Sam thinks idly, the screen in front of his eyes blurring. The thing is, he’s always loved being told what to do in bed. Sam is a control freak, to be sure, up until getting him into bed. And then he wants to be told exactly what to do and how to do it and he doesn’t want to have to think at all. And Josh could—“Really not thinking about it,” he says again.





	and in our hearts we know the truth

**Author's Note:**

> Sam Seaborn is a bottom and you can't change my mind.  
> I didn't write the speech Sam gives; link can be found in the end notes.

Sam’s tired. He’s very tired, he didn’t sleep the night before, and this is possibly the longest staff meeting he’s ever had the misfortune to attend. Toby and Leo have gone three rounds already and don’t appear to be reaching a stopping point any time soon. Sam’s eyes wander over to Josh, reclining on one end of the couch. He, too, looks tired; he’s holding his head in one hand, rubbing circles into his temple. Josh catches his eye and mouths _what are you doing later?_ ; waggles his eyebrows with a grin. Sam smirks at him.

“What do you think is so funny, Sam?” Leo asks, tearing his eyes away from Toby to glare at Sam.

“Nothing—nothing is funny, Leo, sorry.”

“Get out, all of you. Go do something far away from this office.”

Sam vaults from his chair.

“Sam, you got a second?” Josh calls after him.

Sam slows down so Josh can catch him, lets Josh lead them toward his office. “Sure, what’s up?”

“Hey, the education thing you’re working on?”

“What about it?”

“Could you look into adding some paragraphs about tech in the classroom? Tech ed, computers in classrooms, that kind of stuff?"

Sam narrows his eyes as they reach Josh’s office, closes the door behind him. “I mean, I can, but isn’t it a little late to be adding new policies into this now? We’re so close.”

“Leo asked me to look into it.”

“And you’re?”

“Delegating, Sam. You’re already working on it.”

“I’m working on writing the speech, not reforming the policy—”

“It can’t be both?”

“Josh, an assistant could do this, why me?”

“Because I asked, Sam, and that should be good enough.”

“I have shit to do, Josh, I’ve got three major speeches in the next two months—”

"Seaborn!"

"...yeah?"

"I could take you apart in two seconds if I tried. Don't test me."

Sam is thrown completely off guard and takes a sharp breath in. Josh, thankfully, is too caught up in paperwork to notice. There’s a long silence in which Sam tries desperately to gather his thoughts, to make a counterpoint.

"Out, Sam. Don't come back until you've got it."

"Right. Okay." Sam stands as quickly as he can and escapes from the office, relying on instinct to make it back to his own. He slams the door behind himself and slumps against it.

"Shit,” he mutters. This—this is a problem. He does not need to be having any sort of feelings about Josh. Josh is an attractive guy, of course, but he is a friend. His best friend. Josh is his best friend.

_And he could be...he would be really good at taking charge._

“Nope, not thinking about that,” Sam says aloud. He goes back to his desk, throws himself into the new policy position.

Sam spends several hours not making much headway on what Josh asked. He’s got seven different tabs open and he works in spurts on other things, things he thinks are actually important and relevant to his job. And it’s just—the thing is, Sam thinks idly, the screen in front of his eyes blurring. The thing is, he’s always loved being told what to do in bed. Sam is a control freak, to be sure, up until getting him into bed. And then he wants to be told exactly what to do and how to do it and he doesn’t want to have to think at all. And Josh could—

“Really not thinking about it,” he says again.

“Not thinking about what?” Cathy asks, having appeared in his doorway.

“God damn it,” he says. “Couldn’t you knock?”

“Feeling cranky?” she retorts. “Josh wants to see you in his office.”

_Josh can shove it right up—_

He doesn’t finish that thought.

“Alright, tell him I’m coming,” he sighs heavily.

\---

The D.C. air is frigid even though it’s only October, and it seeps into Sam’s bones on his way home. His anger and frustration are growing after an afternoon of no success with technology education. Josh had tried to at least mitigate the resentment, said it’s an important project, special to Leo, whatever. It’s a fool’s errand. It’s a waste of his time.

Sam slams the door to his apartment and throws his coat into a corner. Josh has no right, honestly. Sam doesn't care how hard Leo's riding him. Josh isn't his boss, can't tell him what to do.

 _Unless_ , suggests his traitor brain, _unless unless unless._

Sam weakly slams his fist on the counter. He cannot let this be a problem. It's too awkward, they work too closely, they're best friends, and he has no idea if Josh is even interested in cock.

He's hungry but has already decided he's not putting effort into cooking, so he orders pizza and heads for the shower. Washing off the day can only be good for him.

And anyway, he thinks as he adjusts the water temperature, he shouldn't have been pulled onto this project in the first place. The president's address to the Senate on education reform is in less than two weeks, and he has about a million little things he needs to get done before then. Why was a senior staffer put on this?

Because Josh asked, he knows, and he doesn't have a great track record of saying no to Josh.

 _Unless_ , says his brain again, and now his dick twitches with the thought.

Sam considers, for a long moment, what allowing himself this pleasure might do to him. It could, he supposes, get rid of his attraction to Josh. Or it could make it considerably worse. _One time,_ he reasons. He wraps his hand around himself.

When he closes his eyes he sees Josh over him, pulling off his pants, barking an order, bending Sam over his desk. It's too easy, he thinks distractedly, too easy to come up with this fantasy. In his imagination Josh is working Sam's asshole, whispering filth in his ear with one hand wrapped around his own cock to keep himself hard. Making Sam moan with how deep he's going, readying him, and then entering him with little warning. Dream-Sam curses and grips the desk as Josh fucks him, sloppy and needy and uncoordinated, until shower-Sam releases and sprays cum all over the wall.

And then there’s a knock on the door.

"God damn it," mutters Sam, turning off the water. He calls out that he's coming and struggles with the effort of quickly throwing shorts and a t shirt on over his soaking body. When he finally reaches the door he's out of breath and his hair has dripped all over his shirt. "Uh, thanks," he says, taking the pizza.

The delivery person quirks an eyebrow at him as he signs off on the receipt. Sam leaves a very good tip and slumps against the door as soon as it's closed.

"Fuck."

\---

Yeah, no, touching himself to the thought of Josh hadn’t helped his weird feelings about Josh at all. It had, in fact, made them worse. Significantly worse. Which really, really isn’t helped by Josh still snapping at himself (and everyone else) for the next several days. Sam does his best to steer clear of the warpath, keeping to himself, putting his nose to the grindstone on the new policy.

After three days, Josh sticks his head into Sam’s office.

“Got your email. Thanks a lot for your help.”

“You’re welcome,” Sam says, not looking up.

Josh walks in, sits himself in a chair across from Sam, picks a spare rubber ball off Sam’s desk and fidgets with it. “Donna says I’ve been, in her own words, pissy this week.”

Sam raises an eyebrow at him. “Donna’s a good woman and you don’t value her enough.”

Josh narrows his eyes. “Did she tell you to say that?”

“She didn’t need to.”

“Huh.” Josh looks down at the ball in his hands. “I just wanted to apologize. I’m—this isn’t an excuse. I just haven’t been sleeping.”

Sam frowns. “Panic attacks?”

Josh sighs, nods. “Anyway. I’m sorry. I should’ve handled the whole thing better. You did good work.”

“As I do.”

“So we’re good?”

“We’re good, Josh. And if—if you want to talk about anything.”

Josh nods, turns for the door. “Yeah. Thanks, Sam.”

\---

It's been three weeks since Sam fell victim to torture. Three weeks in which Sam has jumped every time Josh has spoken to him, jerked away from contact, been on edge around him and everyone else. He's nearly done with the speech for the education event next week, just putting on the finishing touches, when Donna knocks on his door. Sam jumps.

"Sorry," she says, although with confusion in her voice. "I'm headed out for the day but Josh wanted to see you before he left."

"Right," sighs Sam, pushing a hand through his hair. "If you're passing back that way let him know I'll be there in just a few."

"You got it," Donna says, headed back toward Josh's office. Sam stares at his computer for several more long minutes thinking about everything except the speech on the screen in front of him. He decides, finally, that the finishing touches can be applied Monday with Toby. He grabs his stuff and heads for Josh's office, ignoring the dread filling his brain.

"Hey," he says, hoping his voice isn't conveying any of his anxiety, and closes the door behind him.

Josh looks up and nods his head in greeting. “Hey, how’s the speech?”

“Nearly done. You needed me?”

“Yeah, the environmental protections bill. Can you take Ainsley and see some of her buddies on the Hill Monday, see if there’s anything we can do?”

“Thought we were done with that.”

“We’re not, we lost three votes.”

“Three?”

“Collins, Flint, Conway.”

“Damn it.”

“But if you and Ainsley—”

“Yeah, we’ll go, but we’re never gonna get Conway back.”

Josh puts down whatever he’d been looking at. “Ainsley can get him, just let her do her thing.”

“Josh, I really don’t think—”

“Trust me, she’s got it.”

“Should we even be negotiating with him?”

“If we want the bill, yes.”

“If we even have anything to offer—”

"Just fix it, Sam," Josh says, nearly a growl, and Sam makes a noise between a moan and a whimper. Out loud. For real.

Josh raises his eyebrows and looks away from his computer. "Uh. You good, Sam?"

"Yep, all good, just—" he stands quickly and knocks his chair over— "fuck, sorry—"

"Did you—?" Josh's eyes are bright with confusion, worry; Sam can see him trying to connect the dots and tries again to move, can't make his legs work fast enough.

"I really, I have to go—"

"Oh," Josh says, getting it very suddenly. " _Oh._ "

Sam stands immediately, backing toward the door. "Shit. I'm sorry—"

“Just gimme a minute, I—”

“I’m sorry, I’m going—”

“—No, Sam, don’t—”

“—We can forget about the whole thing—”

“Sam!” Josh says, slamming his hand flat on the desk. “Shut up for a minute.” Sam goes silent, cursing himself internally. He watches Josh’s face as he processes emotions Sam can’t read. Sam tries to look anywhere else but feels like his eyes are glued to the disaster unfolding in front of him. He can’t fathom what might be going through Josh’s head—anger, fear, just generally being freaked out. He closes his eyes for a moment, tries to calm his racing heart, and when he opens them—is Josh closer than he was? He registers the distance between them; Sam is still most of the way toward the door, and Josh has come around his desk so that they’re not more than a few feet apart. They lock eyes for the first time in several minutes and Sam feels desire burning low in his groin.

Josh takes another step toward him. “So,” he says, and his voice has dropped down into a lower register than Sam has ever heard it. “You like being bossed around.”

Sam nods, unable to find any words in his cursed brain.

Josh takes another step. Sam’s breath hitches. “And you would like me to do the bossing.”

“I—wouldn’t mind,” Sam says, his voice embarrassingly whispery.

If Josh moves any closer there won’t be any distance between their bodies, and surely that will be the end of Sam, he will die right there in Josh’s office and they’ll have to come pick his body up and Josh will have to explain what he did. Exactly how he killed Sam.

Josh does move closer, though, and Sam somehow keeps breathing even as Josh’s face is mere inches from his. And Josh takes another step, and Sam moves away and feels solid wall against his back and then there isn’t anywhere to go and he has to look up and meet Josh’s eyes again. The hunger he sees there surely mirrors his own.

“Josh,” whispers Sam. “Are you—”

“No more talking,” Josh says, and he takes Sam’s hips and presses him fully against the wall and finally, finally brings their lips together. Sam moans quietly into Josh’s mouth, already finding a headspace far away from this office, in a space where only the two of them exist. Josh takes one hand and digs into Sam’s hair, pulling just a little, experimenting, and the reward of Sam’s hips grinding up just a bit makes Josh smile against Sam’s lips.

“God, Sam,” Josh mutters, “you are really fucking pretty like this.”

Sam closes his eyes, trying not to whine as Josh pauses to look closely at him. He can hear his own ragged breathing, the only sound in the world, maybe, and he can feel Josh’s pulse where his hand is still pressed up against his hip. Josh leans in and presses his lips to Sam’s neck, and when Sam hums happily, does so again, biting just a little, to see what Sam will do, and Sam makes a beautiful, terrible noise of want and need and bliss.

“Uh,” Josh says, pulling away and leaving Sam horribly alone against the wall. “We need to go.”

Sam isn’t capable of a lot of words right now, his head feeling distant, but he manages a weak “why?”

“Baby,” and Sam preens, just a little, at the endearment, “we’re in my office, and I want to hear you beg in a place where I’m not concerned Leo might barge in at any time.”

Sam has a lot of feelings all at once. Josh moves away, too far away, and through the brain fog he can tell Josh is gathering his things. By the time Sam can pull himself away from the wall, Josh is ready and back at the door.

“We’ll call a cab,” he’s saying, “the walk—I don’t want to wait that long.”

“Me either,” manages Sam, and he’s given a sloppy kiss for his effort.

Josh subtly leads Sam out of the White House, a firm hand to his low back to steer him around corners and away from people. Sam has to keeps his eyes down because if anyone sees his blown pupils, they’ll know exactly what’s happening. Exactly how fucked he is in this moment.

Or, exactly how fucked he _will_ be, hopefully.

The taxi ride is long, too long, and even though they are silent and as far away from each other as they can be they keep stealing glances at one another. Sam can see marks in the corners of Josh’s mouth where he’s biting his lip to keep himself occupied. Their fingers brush momentarily in the darkness, and Sam jerks away but he’s certain fireworks have gone off and let the entire city know what’s happening.

Josh tips the taxi driver generously and all but runs the stairs up to his apartment, Sam trailing behind him as quickly as he can. As soon as they’re through the door and it shuts behind them, their lips crash together again, Josh pushing Sam against the door and removing his coat for him. Sam breathes Josh's name, once, twice, and each time he does Josh holds a little tighter, pushes a little harder, and Sam is both physically, painfully aware of every point of contact between himself and Josh and also floating in a haze and completely gone.

"We need," Josh says, pulling his lips away from Sam's, resting his forehead against Sam's, "we need a safe word. Something that'll make either of us stop no matter what."

Sam searches his fuzzy brain for words. "Uh, Toby," he says after a moment.

Josh freezes and regards Sam with a smirk. "Yeah. Yeah, I think that'll do it. Good job, baby."

Sam hums as he is recompensed with Josh's mouth on his neck, tongue flicking out between bites. He lingers for several moments on Sam's pulse point, pausing and breathing into the space there. Josh hums against Sam's skin, quiet for a moment, and then Josh takes one hand and pins Sam's wrists to the wall above his head. Caught unaware, Sam cries out, and Josh catches the sound with his mouth. With his unoccupied hand Josh begins slowly undoing the buttons of Sam's shirt, and all Sam can do is whisper Josh's name, over and over. "Please," Sam says, and Josh stops working the second to last button.

"Please what, Sam," he asks, pressing kisses along Sam's jawline. "You'll have to be specific." Sam whines, and Josh laughs low and pulls Sam's chin up to look him in the eyes.

"What do you want, Sam?"

"Want," Sam repeats, and he's breathing hard and heavy and his knees would maybe buckle if Josh weren't holding him up, "want you to decide."

"Hmm," says Josh, considering. He's too far away, again, and Sam is pulling just a little to try to get to him. Josh pushes down harder and finally undoes the last two buttons of Sam's shirt. He places a hand against Sam's chest, where his heart is pounding, and pushes him there instead, releasing his hands. Sam grabs Josh's hips and pulls them against his, too eager, too needy, and Josh laughs again where his lips are pressed against Sam's. "Easy, Sam, we got all night."

Something about that spurs Sam on and he presses his fingertips into Josh's skin, urging him closer, and begins to fumble with Josh's shirt. Josh pulls away and mutters into his ear, "You should be naked first."

Sam's gone, so gone, but he nods, pulls his hands away, lets Josh undo the zipper to his pants. Lets Josh pull him close again, his hands leaving burn marks across his skin.

"We should," Josh says, and even he's having a hard time focusing, Sam thinks, "bed."

"Yeah," Sam breathes out, and Josh pulls him toward the bedroom, making sure neither of them trip over Jude. He pushes Sam down onto the bed and positions himself so he's kneeling over him, pinning Sam's hips down with his weight. He drags his hands across Sam's chest, tests out the feeling of his nails against Sam's skin, and Sam cries out again. He pushes himself up onto his elbows and Josh meets him halfway so their lips can meet again.

"Josh," breathes Sam, lengthening the _o_ as Josh's hands tease around the waistband of Sam's boxers. Josh ducks his head down toward Sam's waist and bites there, sucking and pulling and leaving a mark, and Sam cries Josh's name out again. Josh leaves a matching mark on the other hip and lifts his head to appreciate his work.

“Lay back down, then,” Josh says, and Sam does, and Josh slides Sam’s boxers down and tosses them to the side. Sam stills for a moment and waits, breathing shallowly, for Josh to say something. Josh catches his eye, sees the expression on his face. “Sam,” he says, and he laces a hand through Sam’s hair to pull him back up, “Sam, you’re gorgeous.” He presses his lips against Sam’s and removes his hands from Sam’s skin long enough to free himself of his own shirt. Sam inhales sharply at the sight of Josh’s chest, the scar across it, but Josh grips his chin with two fingers and tilts his head up to force eye contact.

“Don’t,” he says softly.

Sam nods and instead goes about kissing Josh’s neck, his shoulders, his jaw, while Josh fumbles with his remaining clothes. Sam finds a spot just beneath his Adam’s apple that makes Josh falter and groan, and he focuses here, lavishes here, until Josh pulls him away.

“Fuck,” Josh mutters, kissing his lips, “that’s good, keep doing that, just—give me a minute.”

Sam waits, focused on his instruction, until Josh finally throws his pants toward the door and pulls Sam in again. Sam gets back to putting his mouth all over every part of Josh he can reach—his chest, his stomach, his hips, back up to his neck. “Do you want to use your mouth tonight, then?” Josh asks, and Sam lifts his head from Josh’s skin long enough to choke out a “yes.” Josh hums his approval and Sam finds another spot, behind his left ear, that makes him tremble.

“We need,” Josh murmurs, shuddering, leaning away from Sam and toward the bedside table. He fishes out two condoms and a bottle of lube. “Safety first,” and he hands one to Sam, who pulls his on with unsteady hands. Josh makes a bit of a show of putting his own on, sliding it up slowly and pumping once, twice, and Sam prays to whoever might be listening that the distractions are done, because if he doesn’t get his mouth on Josh’s cock _right now_ he’s going to explode.

“Sam,” Josh says, pulling his chin up again, “you’re shaking.”

“Mm,” says Sam, looking intently at Josh’s swollen lips, head spacey.

He grips his chin a little tighter. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes,” Sam answers, but Josh looks unconvinced. “Yes, I’m good, just let me—” He exhales and gestures vaguely at Josh’s dick.

Josh laughs, warm, musical. “Yes, Sam, please,” he says, his voice breathy, and Sam tears his lips away from Josh’s shoulder and replaces them on his inner thigh. Sam feels Josh moving around above him and looks up.

“Just—fixing pillows so I can get a good view,” Josh says, threading his fingers through Sam’s hair, tugging just a little for the reaction it gets from him. Sam finds his thigh again and presses gentle kisses in a zigzag from his knee up to his groin. Josh encourages him with fingers knotting in the hair at the base of his neck. Sam flicks his eyes up toward Josh and, without blinking, begins to work his mouth around the end of Josh's dick.

Josh does his best not to thrust his hips forward, chokes out "yeah, yes, like that," as Sam continues to take more of him into his mouth, his eyes still trained on Josh's face. Sam takes a hand and massages Josh's balls and Josh can't help it, he bucks up, and Sam takes his whole cock.

"Fuck," cries Josh, tightening his hold on Sam's hair, Sam's mouth making filthy noises around him. He grabs for Sam's other hand and places it on his inner thigh, their fingers interlocked, and Sam hums around his dick. Josh’s head tips back and a string of curses falls from his lips as Sam presses his tongue to Josh’s perineum. “Sam—yes, fuck, yes—” He bites his lip and looks down and sees Sam looking up at him, and the expression on his face drives Josh even closer to the edge. Sam responds with more urgency, losing technique in favor of enthusiasm, and after another glance down toward Sam, Josh bucks and cries and comes.

Josh’s fingers release their tight hold on Sam’s head, and Sam can feel Josh’s chest heaving underneath his hands. Sam kisses his way back up Josh’s body, gently, his thighs, his hips, his chest, his neck. He’s focused on Josh’s jawline when Josh turns and presses their lips together.

“You are very good at sucking cock,” Josh says, pulling away just an inch or so from Sam’s face. He runs gentle fingers through Sam’s hair, and Sam closes his eyes and leans into the contact. Josh rests his forehead against Sam’s and takes several minutes to compose himself, breathing deeply, steadying himself. Sam squirms just a little after a few minutes, and Josh opens his eyes to find Sam staring at him very intently. Josh pushes himself up onto his elbows. “And you have been very patient.” He takes a hand and runs it along Sam’s dick, and Sam presses his lips together to keep himself from calling out.

“Let it out, baby, you don’t have to be quiet,” Josh mumbles, intently focused on stroking Sam’s dick. He’s slow—definitely trying to torture Sam as much as possible, finding every place Sam wants touched and dancing around them. And he absolutely knows how much it’s killing him, keeps looking up at Sam, waiting for a response. He presses two fingers just under the tip of Sam’s head, hits the nerves he knows are there, and Sam screams.

“Like that,” Josh says, and goes to work making Sam come. He applies real pressure now, finds every spot that Sam needs, and Sam is shouting, gasping, repeating Josh’s name over and over until he comes. “Like that.”

Somewhere in his brain Sam registers that he should maybe be a little embarrassed at how easily Josh took him apart, how easy he came with Josh’s hands on his skin. He tells that voice to shut the hell up.

Josh cleans them both up a bit, returns to Sam’s side. “How you doing?” Sam pushes as much of himself against Josh as he can and nudges his head into Josh’s neck. Josh puts an arm around him and rubs the muscles in his shoulders and back, presses a kiss to Sam's temple. “I’m proud of you, you did perfect.”

Sam floats slowly back down into himself, nudged along by Josh’s murmurs, his gentle touches. He’d been right, he thinks, somewhere in the back of his mind. Josh had been really, _really_ good.

Time passes in an indecipherable manner from where he’s is laying, body pressed against Josh, pleasure radiating through him. Josh is breathing heavily, might be asleep, but Sam doesn’t lift his head and check. He feels good, heavy and dull and spent. He feels like he doesn’t want to move again for a long time.

That’s what spurs him from the bed.

“Hm?” Josh says, lifting his head up.

Sam finds his clothes, pulls his pants back on. “I gotta go.”

“Alright.” Josh sits up and rubs his eyes. “I should get Jude some dinner or she’ll get fussy.”

“She’d appreciate that.”

Sam buckles his pants and shrugs back into his shirt. Josh is leaning against the headboard, watching him intently, and Sam can feel his eyes boring into him.

“We should do this again, sometime,” Josh says carefully.

Sam stops adjusting his tie and turns to look at Josh. “Yeah,” he answers, swallowing hard. “Yeah, we should.”

Josh smiles at him. “Okay, then.”

\---

Sam’s brain is blissfully clear for several days, able to think several non-Josh related thoughts in a row at any given time. And he feels—really, really good, like he’s walking on air, impossibly light. Cathy sits him down on day three, and asks if he’s taking any uppers.

And on day four, Josh steps into his office and closes the door.

“Done with the education thing?” he asks as he lowers himself into a chair.

“Yeah, just like, two things left. Toby’s got it at this point.”

“Ainsley kicked ass on the Hill, yesterday, huh?”

“Yeah, you knew she would. Got our votes back, plus a few.”

Josh nods, kicks his feet up onto Sam’s desk. Sam raises an eyebrow and looks away from what he’d been working on.

“Did you need something?”

“Uh, yeah.” Josh glances again at the door, looks back to Sam. “About the other night.”

Sam pushes his laptop away and takes a deep breath. “Look, I’m sorry if—”

“No, no.” Josh laughs a little. “I just, wondered. If you wanted to come over tonight.”

Sam’s heart stops beating for a moment, starts back up just as suddenly. “Yeah, um. Yes. I would like that.”

“Okay,” Josh says, still smiling. “Okay, that was it.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. I’ll see you later.”

“Okay.”

Josh makes no move to get up, and he’s still smiling, and Sam smiles, too. Considers Josh for another moment.

“Did you have work you needed to do?”

“Yeah, right.” He stands quickly, heads for the door, throws Sam one more smile over his shoulder.

Sam’s still smiling as he pulls his laptop back over to himself and gets back to work.

\---

Sam does go over that night, and Josh sucks his dick with one hand on his throat. A week later Josh leans into his side as they’re leaving a staff meeting and tells him he’s going to have his way with him that night, and Sam spends the rest of the day half hard and aching. A few days pass, and Sam slips up and calls Josh sir, right there in the office, and that night Josh makes him say it over and over until Josh comes all over him.

And for a few months, that’s how it is. Josh will find Sam during the day, whisper something filthy to him, ask him to come over that night. He must know, somehow, when Sam is feeling stressed, because he always finds Sam those days. Always helps him unwind at the end of those days. And it’s some of the best sex Sam has ever had, amplified by Josh seeming to know exactly the way he needs to fall apart, needs to let go control. Josh is really, really good at helping him let go.

And it’s good, it’s great. It’s just. Sam wasn’t expecting the feelings. They’re small, mostly. Sometimes he catches Josh’s eye over something at work, and Josh gives him a smile that seems to be meant only for him, and it gives Sam butterflies. Or they’ll be walking together and bump against each other and Sam feels like he’s reeling from the contact the rest of the day. He’s dizzy with it, some days. How bad he wants Josh.

It’s just sex, he reminds himself, more firmly those days. Just sex. And at the end of every night, he puts his pants back on and goes home to his own apartment.

\---

The Italian Prime Minister and his wife visit, and Toby is caught up with something else, so Sam’s stuck writing this one himself. It’s exhausting for reasons he can’t describe and he feels like he doesn’t even see Josh during the day, much less at night, but. He gets it done.

There’s a great amount of congratulations being given to Sam as they sit for the actual dinner part of the dinner. Sam is drained; without this to focus on, he feels like he has little reason to stay awake. He slumps back in his chair and lets the conversation wash over him.

“You know,” Josh says quietly, appearing at his elbow. Sam hadn’t been aware of where he was before but he seems to have switched with whoever had been sitting next to him, because he’s eating hors d’oeuvres off the plate in front of him. “I’ve always thought it’s a shame that the speechwriters never get to actually give the speeches.”

Sam looks around; there’s no one else actually listening to what Josh is saying. Toby and C.J. are arguing over the correct spelling of hors d'oeuvres (and Sam thinks they’re actually both wrong); Leo is being engaged in conversation by Lord John Marbury, who has maybe had a little too much wine. Sam meets Josh’s eyes again.

“After all,” Josh mutters, stealing food off Sam’s plate, “you wrote it. You know exactly how you would want it to be delivered.”

Sam’s throat feels tight. Sam’s everything feels tight, but he can maybe fix the tightness in his throat if he loosens his tie a little. He’s fumbling, his fingers shaky, when Josh slides a hand under the table and squeezes the upper part of Sam’s thigh.

“Josh,” Sam hisses, and he’s thanking the powers that be that the violin quartet is playing loudly enough to mask the craving in his voice.

Josh doesn’t move his hand. “I’m just saying,” he says. His eyes flash with want and Sam’s breathe hitches, loudly. “It might be nice. To hear you do it.”

Josh moves away then and Sam has no idea what just happened. He sweats his way through the rest of the dinner, his eyes darting around, trying to find Josh again, but he’s never successful. Maybe because it’s been a few weeks since Josh has asked, maybe because he’s so tired, but god, he’s never found it this hard to control himself at work.

Somehow, someway, he survives, but it’s a close call. C.J. bumps into him just before he leaves and he jumps so far out of his skin that even though she’s definitely a little wine drunk, she definitely notices. He’s grabbing his coat from his office when Josh sweeps in and somehow backs him into a corner without touching him at all.

“My apartment tonight,” he says, leaning in toward Sam’s ear, keeping his lips just centimeters from Sam’s skin, not leaving any room for discussion. Not that Sam would argue; Josh knows how bad he needs this. He nods. Josh lingers in the space next to Sam’s pulse point and Sam feels pretty confident his heart is going to beat out of his chest.

Finally, Josh pulls away, and Sam breathes again and follows him out of the office.

When they get back to Josh’s apartment Sam is immediately winded as Josh throws him against the wall and starts fumbling with Sam’s pants.

“Fuck,” Sam groans as Josh palms his dick through his boxers.

“I’ve missed this,” Josh says, biting Sam’s neck, leaving a mark that will only barely be covered by Sam’s collar tomorrow. “You’ve been so busy.”

“Mm,” answers Sam in place of something coherent.

“I meant what I said,” Josh murmurs against Sam’s neck, and Sam tilts his head back so Josh can have easier access to his throat. “You’re going to do the speech for me, I want to hear you.”

“Yeah,” Sam says, bucking his hips, trying to cause friction between Josh’s hand and his dick. “Yeah, alright.”

“There’s rules,” Josh says, withdrawing his hand but not his mouth, and Sam whines softly.

“I can do rules,” Sam answers, voice breathy.

He can feel Josh’s lips curve into a smile against his skin. “I know you can, baby,” he says. He nips at Sam’s neck and pulls away so he can grip Sam’s chin. “I’m gonna suck your cock, and as long as you’re still speaking, I’ll keep going.” Sam closes his eyes, hums out an agreement, feels himself floating into that space where only he and Josh exist.

“The other rule, Sam,” Josh whispers, gripping the back of Sam’s head and pulling his hair to bring him back just a little, “is that you can’t come until I tell you to.”

Sam inhales sharply and Josh smiles at the response he receives, grabs Sam’s hand and pulls him into the bedroom. Jude meows in surprise and hops down off the bed just before Josh pushes Sam down, tossing his boxers to the side, and poises himself just above Sam’s dick.

Josh pulls a condom out of the drawer and quickly applies it to Sam. “Whenever you’re ready,” Josh says.

“Good evening, everyone,” says Sam, and Josh takes as much of Sam’s cock as he can in one go. Sam moans, short and needy, but continues. “Buonasera. On behalf of Abbey and myself, welcome to the White House.” Sam’s mouth continues to move for several minutes but he can’t focus on the words he’s saying, Josh’s mouth feels so, so good around him, and his words become breathier. “I cannot—I cannot thank you enough for—” His words fall away and he tries to find a grip on Josh’s cheek, but Josh pulls away.

“Thank me enough for?” Josh prompts.

“Josh,” Sam breathes, rolling his hips, but Josh has moved further away, his mouth pressing kisses against his jaw.

“You remember the rules?” Josh asks, and Sam whines but nods his head. “Then you have to keep talking. Thank me enough for?”

“For,” Sam says, trying to remember, “for your excellent partnership as we’ve worked to advance the security and prosperity of our citizens and the dignity of people around the world.”

“Good,” Josh says, pressing a quick kiss to Sam’s cheek, “keep going.”

And Sam does, and Josh goes back to attending to Sam’s dick. Sam speaks, and Josh grabs for the lube and slicks his fingers, works them into Sam’s ass. Sam chokes, but keeps going, keeps going. Keeps going. As Sam continues, he focuses long enough to see that Josh has pulled his own dick out and is slowly pumping it, and Sam stops now, whimpers.

Josh pulls off and sees Sam, staring, mouth slightly agape, and smiles.

“Jealous?” Josh asks, still stroking his dick, working his fingers just a little further into Sam.

Sam nods, too far gone to be embarrassed by it.

“Mm,” Josh says. He kisses Sam’s thigh. “Good. Keep going.”

“In closing,” Sam says, too loudly, trying to hurry his words along. “I just want to reminisce about my last trip to Rome.” Josh knows he’s close and works his mouth more urgently, running his tongue along his frenulum. “As I walked across those ancient stones—” Sam’s hips buck, he stifles a cry— “it was a humbling reminder of our place here on Earth. Josh, I can’t—”

Josh is there, kissing his lips, pulling his hand away from his cock and running it through Sam’s hair. “You can, you’re almost there, just a little more.”

Sam nods, takes a deep breath. “In the grand sweep of time, each of us is here for only a brief moment.” Josh is back on his cock, and each word is deliberate, desperate; his eyes are closed because if he watches, if he focuses at all on seeing Josh, his mouth, his eyes, his hands, he won’t make it. “What matters is the end we build.” Josh’s fingers knot in his ass, pushing further, and Sam gasps, but keeps going. “What matters is what we leave behind—the things that will endure long after we’re gone. Please, please, Josh.”

“Not yet,” Josh says, but doesn’t pull away from him.

“And so I want to propose a toast,” Sam cries, so close, “to the enduring alliance between the United States and Italy,” Josh takes him fully in his mouth again, “to the friendship between the Americans and the Italians...may we...Josh, I need—!” Sam looks down just in time to see Josh coming, and his mouth falters for only half a moment as he takes a deep breath.

“Finish it,” Josh growls, using his now freed hand to push Sam’s hips down into the bed.

“May we always be bold; may fortune smile upon us. Salute, cheers.”

“Okay,” Josh says, and Sam comes so hard he sees stars, crying Josh’s name and gasping for breath. Josh moves himself up, trying to breath himself, and places a hand on Sam’s chest to help him steady his breathing. “Sam, you did so good.” Sam turns, tucks himself into Josh’s chest, his face buried in his neck. Josh kisses the side of his head and pulls him in. “You did so good.” Sam can’t do anything but breathe as his energy wanes and he comes back down from subspace. Josh is still murmuring in his ear but Sam can’t focus on the words he’s saying. He’s tired, so tired, and he’s fighting against the urge to fall asleep.

“Will you drink some water, please,” Josh says, and Sam nods and lets Josh guide the cup to his lips. He replaces the cup on the table and heads to the bathroom to wash up. Sam nods off once or twice while he waits, feeling safe, cozy, warm.

“Are you good?” Josh asks as he climbs back into bed, and Sam nods, hums. “Good. Good.”

Josh is letting himself rest, too, starting to fall asleep, and Sam fights the urge to give in to the weariness threatening to take over. A few more minutes. Josh snores, lightly, and Jude returns and curls up in Josh’s corner of the bed. A few more minutes. The weight of Josh’s arm around him is easy, pleasant. A few more minutes and he’ll go. A few more minutes.

\---

Sunlight streams through the window as Sam’s eyes open and he swears under his breath. He guesses, based on Josh’s light snores and the dead weight of his arm, that he’s still asleep. He moves carefully, slowly pushing himself up and replacing Josh’s arm on the bed. Josh pulls his arm in and doesn’t move anymore, and Sam stands and heads for the pile of clothes he’s discarded in the corner of the room. Jude jaunts into the room, her collar jingling, loudly requesting food. Sam bends over to hush her with a pet. “I’ll get your breakfast in minute.” He’s pulling up his pants when he hears a grunt from the bed.

“Sam,” mumbles Josh.

Sam turns, still trying to buckle his belt, and sees that Josh’s eyes are open and he’s looking right at him.

“What time is it?” Josh asks. God, his bedhead is cute.

Sam glances quickly at the clock. “Seven thirty.”

Josh groans and presses his face into the pillow. “Jude, it’s Saturday,” he says to her. She hops into the bed and bumps his forehead.

“I’ll get her breakfast on the way out,” Sam says, crossing back over to pick her up. Josh catches his forearm and meets Sam’s eyes.

“You don’t have to go,” he says slowly. “You could—you could come back to bed.”

Sam, caught completely off guard, drops Jude back down onto the bed, and Jude meows her displeasure and saunters out of the room.

“I don’t think—”

“It’s too early for thinking, anyway,” Josh interrupts. “You need sleep, you’ve been throwing yourself into this speech for weeks. Give yourself a break. Just—stay. If you want.”

“I don’t know,” Sam says. It’s a terrible idea; his whole brain is screaming at him to say no, to run for the door, but the idea of crossing town to his own bed when there’s a bed right there. And Josh is in it, and asking him to stay.

“Hey,” Josh says, sitting up a little. “Turn off that big beautiful brain of yours for a little while.”

Sam closes his eyes, curses himself for not leaving last night, and unbuckles his belt. “Let me feed Jude so she doesn’t wake us up again,” he says.

By the time he comes back Josh’s eyes are closed again, and Sam tries to find a space as far away from him as he can, gingerly setting his weight on the close side of the bed. Josh hums and throws his arm back around Sam, presses his head into Sam’s back, his lips against Sam’s skin. Sam breathes deeply and tries to follow Josh’s advice.

\---

When Sam wakes up again, Josh’s weight beside him is gone, but there’s a different weight in the center of his back, and he realizes Jude is laying on him, purring happily.

“Hey, Jude,” he sings at her. He buries his face into the pillow and breathes in, inhaling Josh’s scent. This isn’t good, he knows, being in Josh’s bed alone and his cat claiming him and not knowing where Josh is and feeling...something. He definitely feels something. Jude begins making biscuits on Sam’s back and Sam is grateful for the layer of blanket between his skin and her claws.

“She loves you best now because you fed her,” Josh says, appearing in the doorway. He leans against the frame and Sam turns his head toward him. He hadn’t bothered getting dressed past his boxers and his hair is still all over the place and he looks...really fucking good, lit by the sunlight and crossing his arms. Sam has a lot of problems and at least two of them are Josh’s arms.

“Well maybe if you fed her sometimes,” Sam answers, his voice still gravelly. “She’s clearly starving.”

Josh hums in agreement. “There’s human food up, if you want it,” he says, turning away.

And now he’s cooking for him. Sam sighs heavily. He has a lot of problems.

He stands carefully, trying not to offend Jude too much, and stretches. He rummages through a drawer until he finds a worn Mets jersey, and he throws it on without buttoning it before heading into the kitchen.

“Food?” he asks.

Josh looks up and Sam catches him biting his lip. “Yeah,” he says, looking away quickly. “Uh, toast, eggs, butter’s in the fridge.”

"Very Martha Stewart of you," Sam answers.

They eat in front of the TV, where Josh has turned a baseball game on. His eyes are trained on the game and Sam tries to focus, too, but he keeps stealing glances at Josh. It’s so casual, the two of them hanging on the couch, like nothing more than the easy friendship they’ve always had is at stake. Except that Sam is wearing Josh’s shirt and he has marks on his skin from where Josh’s nails dug into his skin the night before; except that if he concentrates, he can feel the ghost of where Josh’s lips were pressed against his back this morning.

“I can hear you thinking from here,” Josh says a while after they finish eating. The game’s on a break. Jude has hopped up into Josh’s lap and when Sam looks up, Josh’s eyes are focused on her ears.

“I’m not,” Sam says, but Josh looks up at him with a quirked brow.

“As if I wouldn’t know,” Josh counters.

Sam inhales and tries to focus. “Yeah,” he says. “Right.”

“You wanna share any of those thoughts?”

Sam stares at the TV, where the game is back and someone is batting but he’s never been a big fan of baseball and he’s not actually sure which teams are playing with the commentary as low as it is. “Are we sure this is a good idea?”

“You don’t think it’s a little late for that part of this discussion?” Josh asks drily.

Sam huffs a bit. “It can’t hurt,” he says.

Josh nods and turns himself toward Sam, tucking his feet up under himself but managing to not dislodge Jude. He turns off the TV. “It isn’t a bad idea,” he says. “I don’t think. I’ve certainly enjoyed it.”

“I—have too,” Sam says, off guard. Josh does that to him a lot. “But I imagine you knew that.”

Josh nods. “Yeah. I thought so.”

There’s a long, heavy silence broken only by Jude’s purrs. Sam tries to remember to breathe, to remember what they were even talking about.

“So what did you mean?” Josh asks.

Sam looks up at him, finds the earnest, open eyes of his friend looking back into his. “Josh,” he breathes out. His stomach is tight. “I just. I want to make sure this is what you want.”

Josh doesn’t say anything right away. He picks up Jude and sets her on the floor so he can scoot toward Sam. “Sam,” he says, and his voice is low in a way it usually only is in his bedroom. He gently takes Sam’s chin and lifts it up to look at him. "What do you want?"

 _You,_ Sam thinks, before he can throw his guard back up, and fuck if that isn't it, then. He's fucked, he's so thoroughly fucked. Whatever line might have existed between his heart and Josh was gone, and in its place is left huge, complicated, aching want for so much more than he can have. He tries not to let this realization play out on his face as he slides to his knees and guides Josh's hand to his hair, and Josh tightens his grip just a little bit. Sam meets Josh’s eyes, and the desire he sees there wakes warm feelings in his chest.

"Why don't you tell me what you want?"

\---

“Sam, you’ve got a meeting with Barnes and Billingsway at three today.”

Sam nods, definitely so focused on the words Toby’s saying and not at all thinking about the way Josh had held him last night, the way Josh’s eyes match the suit he’s wearing today.

“Tell them about the progress we’ve made on 485 and why we need their support, President can’t do it without them. Really dress it up.”

“Yeah, I got it.” The way Josh had smiled at him as they’d left senior staff that morning.

“And then you can tell them about the aliens they found in the residence last week.”

“Yeah, I’ll tell them.” The marks he had all over his thighs from where Josh couldn’t keep his mouth to himself.

Toby whacks Sam on the back of the head.

“Ow?”

“Hey, generally when I talk, you should listen.”

“I am listening.”

“You haven’t heard a word I said since I walked in here.”

“You...said my name, once or twice.”

“Sam.” Toby sighs. “Could you get it together long enough to get this meeting done? When you’re done, come back here, we’ll work on the address for the ag event next week.”

“Yeah, alright. Sorry.”

Toby narrows his eyes, regarding Sam. “Get it together,” he repeats.

“It’s got, it’s together.”

“Good.”

\---

“So what’s on your mind?”

Sam looks up from his copy of the speech. Toby hasn’t moved his eyes off what he’s doing but Sam can tell he’s being observed.

“Uh, nothing. I’m all good.”

“You haven’t typed anything in five minutes.”

Sam looks down again at his computer and thinks about it. He supposes that’s about right. “Yeah, just stuck on this part.”

“Alright.”

They go back to work, or Toby does. Now that Sam’s thinking about what might be wrong, he’s thinking about Josh again, which generally makes work difficult. He regards Toby over the top of his computer and wonders.

“So let’s say, theoretically, you’re sleeping with your best friend.”

Toby heaves a sigh and looks up from what he’s doing. “Sure, let’s say that.”

“Your theoretical male best friend.”

“Sure.”

“And it’s just a friends thing, or it’s supposed to be, but now you have feelings and you don’t know what to do about it.”

“Sam, you’re making this afternoon very difficult for me.”

“Right, sorry. Forget it.”

They both go back to working, a heavy silence falling over them. Sam thinks maybe he shouldn’t have said anything.

“Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“Just tell him.”

Sam is taken aback, has to process for a moment before he can respond. “Okay. Uh. There’s no way he feels the same about me.”

“You’re only going to get hurt by staying quiet.”

“Toby—it’s Josh.”

“I’m not stupid, Sam. Tell him.”

Sam sighs. “I’ll think about it.”

Silence again, and maybe a little less heavy this time. Sam focuses on the words on the page in front of him for several long minutes before Toby speaks again.

“If I ever catch the two of you doing anything in this building I will throw you out on your asses myself.”

Sam nods slowly. “Yeah. Okay. That’s reasonable.”

\---

It’s been a long ass day and Sam’s literally not even moved from his desk. He is focused, he is working, he’s getting shit done. He’s not noticing how loudly his stomach is growling because if he can get just a little further, he can take a break. And he will, just as soon as this is done.

Just after two, Josh drops a bagel off onto Sam’s desk and comes around to look at Sam’s laptop.

“You misspelled ‘duty’ there.”

“Clearly my mind was elsewhere.”

He leans a little closer. “You need to make sure you’re eating well, Sam. Hard to write speeches if you’re hungry.”

Sam reaches idly for the bag but doesn’t look away from his screen.

Josh puts his lips just against Sam’s ear. “Hard to take cock, too.”

Sam finally shuts his laptop but doesn’t turn his head. “You suggesting I should be prepared for that?”

“I’m saying,” and Josh’s voice has dipped into its lowest register, “that if I knew someone had plans for me tonight, plans potentially involving a gag, I would make sure I had a snack beforehand. Build up those calories.”

Sam sputters a bit, and Josh is gone quickly, turning as he leaves to throw Sam a smirk.

Toby walks in just then, and catches the look on Sam's face.

"I don't want to know," he says, throwing his hands in the air as he exits. Sam takes a bite of his bagel and tries to calm his rattled nerves.

\---

Josh gets caught up in a meeting so Sam lets himself into the apartment that evening. Jude comes running for the door, trying her level best to knock him down as she weaves between his legs. He sets her out some dinner, mixes in wet food just because he knows she likes it, and settles onto the couch to wait.

This is what it could be like, he thinks, flicking through the channels to find something to watch. If they were anything more than what they are, if Josh felt the same, if he really belonged here. Sam could come home to Josh’s apartment, to their apartment, maybe. Feed the cat, get dinner for both of them, have the game on. This is what it could be like.  

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Josh says, leaning down and pressing a kiss to Sam’s cheek, and Sam jumps. He hadn’t even heard the door open. “You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m good,” Sam says, turning off the television. “Guess I was more involved in the movie than I thought.”

“Didn’t know you were so into rom coms.”

“Oh, well. You know me.”

Josh comes over to stand in front of Sam. “I was gonna go to bed. You wanna join me?”

He offers Sam a hand. Sam takes it and Josh pulls him into a kiss, lets his hands roam over Sam’s back. Sam pulls Josh’s coat off gently, sets it on the couch without removing his lips from Josh’s. They touch like that for several more minutes, slow and affectionate, undemanding.

“Needed this,” he mumbles against Sam’s lips. Sam’s heart aches; he wants to whisper me, too, but it’s too close to the truth. Josh lets their foreheads rest against each other for a brief moment, then offers Sam a small smile and pulls him toward the bedroom.

“Come on, I have plans for you,” Josh says, already working on loosening Sam’s tie. He pushes Sam slowly toward the bed, not taking his lips off Sam’s skin. It feels so good, Sam thinks, Josh’s hands in his hair, his lips on Sam’s neck, but he isn’t spacing the way he might, even when Josh takes a hand and gently hits Sam’s cheek a few times, even if he leans into the touch. He can’t find their place, can’t turn his brain off. Josh undoes the buttons of Sam’s shirt and tosses it aside, pushes Sam down against the bed and pins his wrists above his head. Come on, Sam urges himself as Josh begins to work the fastening of his pants, stop thinking, let go. Josh presses hot kisses to his hips, bites, sucks, slips his fingers through his belt loops and begins to slide them down.

“Toby,” Sam says.

Josh freezes and looks up at him. “I mean, if that’s what you wanna imagine…”

“That’s our safeword, Josh.”

“Right, shit. Sorry.” He pulls away and gives Sam space, and Sam sits up, throws his legs over the side of the bed, puts his head in his hands. “Sam, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t,” Sam murmurs into his hands. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Josh falls silent and for several long moments Sam can hear only the sounds of Jude crunching her dinner. “Okay,” Josh says finally, his voice small.

Sam snaps his head to look over at Josh. “Okay?”

“I don’t want to do anything you don’t want to do, Sam. If you say we’re done, we’re done.”

“That isn’t what I want,” Sam answers, despair and panic setting in.

Slowly, Josh scoots over so that he’s sitting with his side against Sam’s. He takes a hand and cups Sam’s jaw in one hand. Sam lifts his head so Josh can look at him.

“Then what do you want?”

“You,” Sam whispers, closing his eyes. He can’t look at Josh, can hardly breathe, but he’s started this now and he has to finish it. “But not like this. I want—the real thing, Josh. I want to take you on dates, I want to stay the night, I want to watch stupid baseball games on the couch and care too much about the Mets with you.” He stops himself, finally opens his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

Josh shakes his head. “Why are you sorry?”

“I’m asking for something I can’t have, Josh. And now we’re too involved and I’ve ruined any chance I might have at just being your friend after all this is over.”

“Sam,” Josh breathes. “Who said you couldn’t have that?”

They stare at each other for what feels like maybe an eternity, and Sam tries to make his brain catch up to what he just heard. “Josh—”

“Stop talking for a minute,” Josh says, and he presses his lips to Sam’s.

Sam is shocked but he knows this, knows how to respond, moves his mouth against Josh’s, leans into the familiar, and it’s—it’s right. Sam brings his hands up to Josh’s face, pulls his lips away unwillingly. “Okay,” he says. “So, you—?”

“Yeah.”

“Also?”

“Yeah.”

“Want that?”

“Yes, Sam.” Josh kisses him quickly, can’t help it. “Yes, I want that. I want you. In all those ways you described, in whatever way you’ll have me, for as long as you’ll have me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Sam places a hand on Josh’s chest, fingers twisting in the fabric of his shirt a little, pulling him closer. "So...you serve at the pleasure of Deputy Communications Director Sam Seaborn."

Josh laughs, Sam can feel the rumble of it through his palm, and he loves that noise maybe more than anything in the world. “I think we both know you serve at the pleasure of Deputy Chief of Staff Josh Lyman, but yeah, you’ve got the concept.”

“I’m gonna keep asking questions.”

“I was hoping for an interview before this evening’s activities so I guess I’m in luck.”

“Shut up.”

Josh presses a quick kiss to Sam’s lips. “What else?”

“How long?”

“I can’t say I’ve measured it lately but you seem to take it pretty well—”

“You’re such an ass.”

Sam gets more kisses, on his cheeks, his forehead. “It got me you, so.”

“How long have you known?”

Josh chuckles and looks down at his hands. “This is gonna sound stupid.”

Sam reaches over to grab one of Josh’s hands, laces their fingers together. “Try me.”

Josh looks up at him with a small smile. “Do you—do you remember that staff meeting a few months ago, the one where Toby and Leo were going off on each other about the ethanol tax credit again?”

“Yeah, vaguely,” Sam says.

“I—I tensed up, and I was pretty sure I was going to have a panic attack.”

“Yeah, that I remember.”

“And you found me after, and you pulled me into your office. And you closed the door, and you just—you held me for a minute?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

Josh squeezes his hand. “That’s when I knew. I had an idea before then, but that’s when I knew for sure.”

Sam nods for a moment. “Huh.” He kisses at the spot below Josh’s Adam’s apple that he knows makes Josh crazy and is rewarded with a low moan. “Different question, then.” He pulls his face away from Josh so they can look each other in the eyes and focus. “What are we gonna do?”

“Well, like I said, I have plans for you.”

“About work, Josh.”

Josh sighs. “Tell them.”

“The press will have a field day.”

“Let ‘em.”

“Josh.”

“ _Let them_ , Sam.” He shakes his head. “If we get ahead of it, it’ll be a non-thing. It’s not like it’s a secret that the President supports gay people, this isn’t gonna lose him any support he hadn’t already lost. If he’s vocal about it, it might even gain him some. No one in the office will care.”

“Toby already knows,” Sam remembers. Josh raises an eyebrow. “It was—a conversation.”

“That you will definitely have to recount to me at some point.”

“Hmm,” Sam agrees.

"However," says Josh. He stands. "Sorry, were you done asking questions?"

"For now."

"However." He takes Sam's chin in his hands, and Sam closes his eyes, breathes in the familiarity. "If you'll recall, I had plans for tonight."

"I believe you mentioned something about a gag," Sam says. He meets Josh's eyes and blushes, just a little.

"I think that can wait," Josh says, "although it's a concept we'll definitely be revisiting in the future." He pushes Sam a little further back into the bed and straddles him. "Actually, my plans changed."

"So did mine," Sam says softly. Josh smiles, leans his forehead against Sam's.

"So my new plan."

"Your new plan."

Josh kisses him, soft and sweet and with little urgency, and Sam brings a hand to the back of his head, holds it gently, keeps him there.

"My new plan involves a lot of that."

"I think I can get behind this plan."

They kiss again, and Sam takes his free arm and wraps it around Josh, pulling him a little closer. Sam presses small kisses to Josh’s forehead, his eyes, his cheeks, his lips. Josh’s arms are wrapped around his waist, keeping him secure, holding him in place.

Sam rests his forehead against Josh’s, catching his eyes, feeling his stomach drop a little at the intensity of the feeling he sees there. “Hey, you,” he breathes. “Can I try something?

Josh takes a hand and cups Sam’s cheek. “Yeah, I trust you.”

Sam unbuttons the top two buttons of Josh's shirt, and Josh quirks an eyebrow at him.

"We've got all night, babe. We've got every night."

"I know," Sam answers, continuing down to the bottom. He pulls Josh's shirt off and gently lays his fingers on Josh's scar. "You said no before, so I just—is this okay?"

Josh inhales deeply. "Yeah, yes. Go ahead."

Sam takes it in. He traces, touching lightly, from one end to the other. After a few moments Josh squirms beneath his hand.

“You know, the Surgeon General said it’s a beautiful scar.”

“There are a lot of things about you that are beautiful.”

“Maybe we should call you the big block of cheese.”

“Maybe.” Sam presses a kiss to Josh’s chest; Josh brushes one against Sam’s temple and rests his forehead against Sam’s.

“Needed this,” he mumbles.

“Yeah,” agrees Sam, feeling warm. “Me too.”

Josh touches Sam’s chest, no urgency, no goal. Sam lets himself feel heady with the touch.

“Josh?”

“Sam, babe?”

“In this new plan, do you ever take your pants off?”

Josh laughs and obligingly stands to remove them, and Sam follows suit. Sam sits back against the headboard and Josh straddles him again. Sam brushes lazy kisses along Josh’s collarbone, reveling in being able to take his time, to not rush. They’ve got all night. They’ve got every night. He takes a hand to Josh’s balls and massages them gently. Josh breathes in deeply, presses his head into Sam’s neck, moans quietly against his skin.

“Good?” Sam whispers.

“Real good,” Josh confirms, “you’re doing real good.”

Sam takes his own cock then, too, wraps his hand around both of them, pulls gently. The friction is intoxicating, and based on Josh’s more labored breathing, Sam thinks he agrees.

“Real good,” says Josh again, even more quietly, pressing himself more into Sam.

Sam tries not to rush, just holds them together, rubbing, but. It does feel really fucking good. Sam whines a little at his own impatience and he feels Josh laugh into his chest. Josh takes one hand to the lowest part of Sam’s back, drags his nails there just a little, and Sam falters.

“You’re doing good baby, keep going,” Josh murmurs.

Sam nods and keeps rubbing, keeps going, focuses on every point of contact between Josh and himself. Josh takes his hand, cups Sam’s cheek, and kisses him deeply, and Sam keeps going. He can feel Josh’s breathing getting harder, and he twists just a little so he can reach Josh’s perineum, drags his fingers lightly just there.

Josh shudders, digs his nails into the small of Sam’s back as he comes, whispers Sam’s name into his ear. It’s beautiful, and it’s enough to spur Sam into finishing, choking out a gasp.

For several long minutes they breathe, syncing their breaths together, resting their ragged hearts and not saying anything. Sam removes his hands from their dicks and wraps his arms around Josh. He can feel his eyes getting heavy; he lays his head against Josh’s chest and closes them. He’s starting to nod off when he feels Josh moving beneath him.

“Josh,” he whispers. “What are you doing?”

“Sam, baby. As much as I’m loving this my knees are fucking killing me.”

“Alright old man,” Sam laughs.

Josh hits him with the towel lightly he’s grabbing off the side table, cleans them off as Sam settles himself against the pillows. Josh lays with his arm across Sam’s waist and his head against his chest. Sam knows it won’t be long before Josh is out, is feeling pretty close to asleep when Josh’s voice jolts him just a bit.

“Sam?” Josh asks, lifting his head and meeting Sam’s eyes.

“Yeah?”

“Stay.”

“Yeah,” Sam agrees. He presses his forehead to Josh’s. “I’m not going anywhere.”

\---

“So, we’re dating.”

There’s a heavy silence in the room, in which Sam and Josh stare at the carpet and everyone else looks at each other. Toby hides a smirk behind his paperwork, sniggers.

C.J. huffs and pulls a bill out of her pocket, hands it to Toby.

“What was—were you betting on when we’d get together?”

C.J. and Toby are both snickering now, and Leo sighs. “Are we done here?”

“Is that it?” Josh asks.

“Did you want there to be more?”

“Well, no—”

“Then yeah, that’s it. We’re with you. End of story. What’s next?”

Sam and Josh look at each other, at C.J. and Toby, still laughing, at the silent President. Sam shrugs. “Alright then.”

The four of them file out into Leo’s office, Sam and Josh muttering low to each other. The door to Leo’s office shuts, and Leo turns and raises an eyebrow to the President.

“Was there something else you needed?”

“You must have forgotten, Mr. President.”

Jed looks at Leo for a long time, then sighs and pulls his wallet out of his pocket, throws a twenty on the desk. Leo smirks and pockets it.

“That will be all. Thank you, Mr. President.”

**Author's Note:**

> Speech  here.   
> Title from "100 Years" by Florence + the Machine.  
> Thanks to my beta Luka and my partners Becca and Sam; couldn't do it without you three.


End file.
